


Nothing In Between

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Spanking, POV Sam Winchester, Pre-Series, Punishment, Spanking, Teen Dean Winchester, Teenchesters, Weechesters, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 14:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14287173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: "Now you listen to me very carefully, Dean. As soon as I terminate this call, you're going to give your brother a spanking, aproperone, after which you'll call me to confirm it was done. You disobey me, and I'll take my belt to you when I get back. And then I'll take it to Sam. Do you understand?"





	Nothing In Between

**Author's Note:**

> Spanking of a pre-teen by a teenager - if it offends, please don't read  
> Dean is freely using variations of the f-word - don't like, hit the "back" button.
> 
> Much thanks to my lovely Ladies of the Beta: [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti) and [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda) \- go visit their pages!

There were many things that could have been said about Sam Winchester. That he was short and skinny – but after all, he was only twelve years old, and had plenty of time to grow and bulk up; that he was sometimes awkward and shy in other kids' company – which wasn't really weird, considering how the Winchesters moved around so much, always making him the new kid in school; that he was a bit of a geek – although he saw nothing wrong with loving to read and learn new things, and he didn't really care if it wasn't considered a "cool" thing.

But nobody could ever say that Sam Winchester was stupid. No way, no how.

Yet right now he felt like the dumbest kid to have ever walked the earth.

Because what else would you call a kid who would try to steal a chemistry set from the toy store and actually _drop_ it from under his coat to crash on the floor right at the entrance? That's right, stupid.

So now he was sitting in the manager's office and staring miserably at the floor. Because of course after he'd been busted, there just happened to be a customer in the store that recognized Sam from when he came with his dad to his garage, and of course that customer had his dad's cell phone number, and _of course_ , Dad had to answer the phone on the second ring.

Stupid _and_ unlucky. Yay for him.

 Although, having Dad on a hunt away from the town they were staying in might balance his luck a bit; because Dad had to send Dean to pick Sam up, and Dean would be mad at him, but not Dad-mad. He'd probably yell at Sam for a while, which Sam could take, then tell him he wouldn't be going anywhere alone for the next week – which really was more of a punishment for Dean than for Sam – and then he'd hug him and make him his favorite dinner and let him snuggle up to him while they watched some TV.

That wouldn't be too bad.

A knock on the door made Sam turn in his seat and the manager lift his head from his desk. "Come in."

Dean opened the door and walked in. He looked at Sam first, scanning him the way he always did to make sure he was okay, then turned his eyes to the manager, who was standing up from his chair.

"You're this boy's brother?"  

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry he caused trouble, he's never done anything like this before."

"Funny he should start with a chemistry set, of all things. An _expensive_ chemistry set."

"Well, you can see he's a little geek," Dean started to smirk, saw that the manager wasn't impressed at the joke, and lost the grin. "We'll of course pay for that." Sam could see the manager eyeing Dean somewhat doubtfully, probably having taken in his faded coat and the tattered flannel beneath it. But Dean fished some bills out of his jeans pocket and the manager shrugged slightly.

"You are aware he was _stealing_. I should probably call the sheriff's office-"

"Please, don't do that," Dean said quickly. "He's just a little kid. He didn't know what he was doing. Let us pay for whatever damage he caused, and we'll be out of your hair. He'll never come into this store again, I promise. Please."

The manager passed his eyes from him to Sam, who tried to look as repentant as possible. "That set was thirty-nine dollars, plus tax."

Dean flipped through the bills, tightened his lips and fished some more bills out of his other pocket. "Here's forty-five bucks, for the chemistry set and for your trouble. I'm really very sorry, sir."

Sam held his breath while the manager studied the offered money, and released it when the man finally reached for the bills. "Get him the hell out of my store."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," within a minute, the Winchesters were out of the office, out of the store and walking quickly down the street with Dean's hand planted firmly on Sam's shoulder and herding him forward.

Sam stumbled along, his legs not nearly as long as Dean's and unable to keep up with the pace his brother was setting. "Dean, wait, slow down a bit."

"I would've thought you'd like to get as far away from there as fast as you can," Dean grumbled, but slowed down. "What the fuck were you _thinking_ , dude?"

"I dunno," Sam was feeling even more miserable now, with Dean having to practically beg the store manager for his sake and to lose all that money – it either came from whatever meager cash their father left them with, or from what little Dean made on that part-time job he took at the grocery store. Sam couldn't decide which option made him feel worse.

"Well, you better figure something out, because Dad wants you on the phone with him as soon as we're back at the room," that wasn't good, but it wasn't really _bad_. If Dad was in town, Sam could expect a world-class ass beating; as it was, Dad was a four-days' drive away, so the worst he could do was tongue-lash him over the phone. Not something Sam was looking forward to, but considering the alternative, he would be grateful for it.

Fifteen minutes later they were at the run down apartments they currently called home – a crumbling old building with halls that smelled of piss or vomit or both, and tenants that looked not much cleaner or nicer than the cockroaches that scampered under your feet. Luckily their room was on the first floor, otherwise Sam couldn't imagine he would have been able to walk through this awful place on his own whenever he wanted to go in or out, and he didn't think Dean would let him, either.

Their room was relatively clean, though, no thanks to any maintenance service; the day they settled in, Dean made Dad buy cleaning supplies and he and Sam scrubbed the place down until Dean was satisfied they weren't going to be killed by giant roaches or toxic mold or radioactive cobwebs.

Dean locked the door behind them as soon as they were inside, throwing both the deadbolt and the security chain closed. He was dialing on their cell phone even before he was fully out of his coat.

"Dad? Yeah, we're here. Yes, sir. No, sir, no problems. Uh, thirty-five bucks," Sam blinked at that, but kept quiet. "Yes, sir." Dean held the phone out to Sam.

Sam was draping his coat on the back of a kitchen chair, and he kept at it for a few seconds longer, straightening it as if he was preparing for an inspection by a Marine drill sergeant. But it was stupid to put it off. He took the phone from Dean. "Dad."

"Sam, what the hell was that?" Sam flinched at the harshness of Dad's voice. "Why would you steal a goddamned _chemistry set_? Are you aware of the trouble you might have gotten all of us into? Did you even stop for a second to work that brain of yours?!"

"I'm sorry," Sam couldn't will his voice to do any better than a whisper. "I didn't mean… it was just a toy."

"That _toy_ might have made the store owner call the police, and the police would have wanted me to come and get you, because Dean isn’t old enough to be your legal guardian. And since I wouldn’t have been able to show within reasonable time, they'd have Social Services involved. Did you think about _that_ , Sam? Do you want to be at risk of being taken away from me, being separated from your brother? Do you?"

Sam closed his eyes and tried to keep his voice steady. "No, sir."

"Those people, the authorities, they don't understand. They don’t know what's out there in the dark. They don't know what kind of work we're doing, how we're saving lives every single day. We can never explain it to them, and even if we tried, they'd never believe it. That's why I tell you over and over again we need to fly under the radar. And getting caught stealing is _not_ how you do it," Dad paused for a minute, and Sam held the phone tight, feeling his hand trembling a bit. "Hold the phone so Dean can hear me."

Sam looked at Dean and tilted the phone a bit. His brother got the message, came close and stooped down with his head by Sam's.

"Dean, are you listening?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sam still there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sam, you are not getting away with what you did, not with putting us at risk and not with making Dean waste so much money over it. Your punishment's not waiting until I get back. Dean is going to spank you right now."

Sam's stomach gave a sudden lurch. He slanted a glance at Dean and saw his brother's mouth gaping. Neither of them spoke.

"Did you hear me, Sam?"

Sam managed to somehow "yes, sir" even though he could barely move his tongue.

"Dean, I want you to do this, and then call me back," Dean still didn't reply, and Dad's voice came louder and sharper. " _Dean_."

"Sir," it was more of a breath than a word.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, sir, but I can't…" Dean inhaled and tried again. "I can't do this."

"Your brother deserves a punishment, and he's going to be getting it."

"Okay, but I can't-"

"I don't wanna hear it."

"Can you maybe… can I give him a different punishment? He'll learn his lesson, he-"

"I don't know why you think this is some sort of a discussion, Dean, because it's not. It's an order."

Dean's eyes squeezed shut. "Please, don't make me do it," his voice was wavering slightly. "Please, Dad."

Sam held his breath as Dad's response delayed; it seemed like an hour had passed by. When Dad spoke again, his tone made Sam's insides coil themselves up in icy knots.

"Now you listen to me very carefully, Dean. As soon as I terminate this call, you're going to give your brother a spanking, a _proper_ one, after which you'll call me to confirm it was done. You disobey me, and I'll take my belt to you when I get back. And then I'll take it to Sam. Do you understand?"

Dean didn't answer. His breath, somewhat hastened, rushed by Sam's head.

" _Do you understand me, boy?!_ "

"Yes, sir," the reply was so low, Sam thought Dad might not have heard it, but he did, because there was a little click, and the line went dead.

Both of them were frozen in place, Sam still holding the silent phone and Dean still bent over next to him, his amulet swaying gently in the air. He didn't seem like he might be moving anytime soon. Sam slowly lowered the hand holding the phone.

"Dean?"

Dean didn't respond at first, and then his eyes turned in Sam's direction. Sam took a breath.

"Do you want to do it here, or the bedroom?"

"Do what?" Dean sounded miles away.

"Spank me."

"I'm not spanking you."

"Dad said you are."

Dean straightened up at last. "I'm not." He turned and took a few steps away.

Sam blinked at him, not entirely sure what to say. Dad's order was very clear, and so was his threat. True, Sam wasn't eager to have his ass blistered, but he was much less eager for Dean to be whipped. Which, right now, seemed to be the direction his brother was headed. He cleared his throat.

"You have to do it."

"I don't."

"Dad told you to."

"Well, screw that," the heat in Dean's voice was scorching. He brought both his hands up, fingers passing over his face and into his spiky hair on either side of his head.

"You're can't just disobey him like that."

"Watch me."

Sam stood there for a minute, just staring at Dean who still held his hands on both sides of his head, the elbows shielding his face. It didn't take an expert to see how upset he was; for Dean to even consider disobeying Dad was indication enough. And Sam really didn't want him to disobey, not under pain of their father's belt.

"Dean, please, just do it and we'll get it over with," Sam moved a little closer. Dean backed up a step, letting his hands fall away from his face.

"Not fucking happening, Sam."

"But I deserve it, I did a dumb thing and got in trouble and you had to pay all that money."

"You did a dumb thing because you're a stupid little kid, and stupid little kids do dumb things all the time. It's in the job description. And you should care about the fucking money more than me, because I was gonna get you your lousy Lucky Charms with it, and now you won't have it. So there."

"That's not how it is, you know it's not."

"It's exactly how it fucking is, because I fucking say so."

Sam's brain was reeling; there was no talking rationally with Dean when he was like this, that much was clear. It wasn't as if Dean had never laid a hand on Sam; he didn't hesitate to cuff him upside the head, or pull him, or shove him, or even smack his butt on a few occasions. But it was all done in an off-handed sort of way, more for warning than for actual punishment. And Dean had never spanked him for real, not like Dad did. Not like Sam had to make him do now.

"Please, Dean."

"No."

Sam took another step forward, and Dean flinched back. "Get the fuck away from me," he growled.

"Just listen-"

"I said no, damn it!" Dean was staring at him now, chest heaving, green eyes blazing. "The fuck's wrong with you, anyway? You're seriously asking me to beat your ass?!"

"Because Dad said you'll do it. And you have to."

"I don't have to do shit."

"He'll whip you," Sam could feel desperation leaking into his voice.

Dean snorted. "Like I fucking care."

"He'll whip _me_ ," at last, there was a slight change in Dean's face.

"He won't," he said, but he didn't seem thoroughly convinced of his own words.

"He will."

"He won't, you're fucking _twelve_."

"He whipped you when you were twelve."

"Yeah, well, because I'm a big tough hunter, and you're a whiny little bitch," Sam could tell Dean was getting uneasy, which meant he was pressing the right buttons.

"He'll do it, Dean, you heard him. He said if you disobeyed him, he'd take his belt to you, and then to me."

"He won't," Dean repeated, with even less conviction than before.

"Do you know Dad to make empty threats like that? He said he'll do it, and he will. And even if he won't use a belt on me, he'd still spank me, and you know it'd be bad enough," Sam tried for another step toward his brother, and this time Dean stayed where he was and pulled his shoulders back some.

"You know what? Fine. You want me to beat your ass? I'll do it. I'll give you a couple of whacks and we're done. I'll tell Dad I spanked you, which is technically true, and everybody's happy."

Sam shook his head. "Dad said a _proper_ spanking. Not a couple of whacks."

"The hell he's gonna know?!"

"Because you can't lie to him worth a damn, and you know it. He'll hear it in your voice the minute you open your mouth. He always does. And then he'll be even more pissed than he already is."

Dean licked his lips, undoubtedly trying to come up with an answer to that and failing. Sam gave up the effort of keeping the tremble out of his voice.

"Dean, please. It's just a spanking. I earned it, I did. I made you waste your money, I put us in danger of getting the police involved. It was my fault, I deserve to be punished, not you." Dean still didn't respond, but Sam had no trouble reading the emotions on his face. He moved forward some more. "I don't want Dad to whip you. I don't want him to whip me. You don't, either. Please."

He reached Dean. His big brother looked down at him, the corners of his mouth twitching, his eyes somewhat shinier than before.

"Jesus Christ, Sam," he whispered at last. Sam carefully put his hand on Dean's arm and gave him a little shove. When Dean didn't resist it, he pushed him again, gently. Dean seemed almost dazed as Sam guided him into the bedroom this way, and Sam had to practically turn him around and shove him back to make him sit down on the one queen size bed in the room.

Sam started to move when Dean grabbed both his arms. Sam looked down into his face.

"I can't do this, Sammy," Dean's voice came hoarse, strenuous. "I can't."

Sam felt tears stinging behind his eyes and blinked them back. How could he have screwed up this bad, to have Dean face a choice that hurt him so much?

If he ever had a world-class ass beating coming to him, it was definitely now.

"It's okay, Dean," he said, as bravely as he managed. "It's okay, I want you to do it. I want _you_ to do it, not Dad. It's going to be okay." He gently peeled Dean's hands off him as he spoke, moved to Dean's right side and started undoing his jeans. From the corner of his eye he could see Dean looking at him, but he wasn't trying to get up or stop Sam from pushing down his pants and underwear.

Before he could lose his nerve, Sam leaned forward and positioned himself over Dean's lap. It felt a bit weird. He had been, regretfully, over Dad's knees more than once in the past, and he found himself comparing it to being over Dean's. Dean was tall and bulking up, but he was still smaller than Dad, although his lap was wide enough to support Sam when he settled down and waited.

For a minute or so Dean hadn't moved, and Sam started to fear Dean would throw him off his lap and seal both their fates. And then he felt his brother's hand slide over his back to grab his waist. There was another silent minute before Dean drew a breath and his hand descended on Sam's upturned butt.

Sam winced and grabbed the bedspread as the swats kept falling fast. Dean wasn't hitting as hard as Dad, not by far, but it still hurt, and the sting was building rapidly. Soon Sam was gasping, his hands fisting into the bedspread, and although his body wanted to squirm away from the source of pain, he forced himself to lie still, because even though Dean managed to start the spanking, there was a good chance he'd stop as soon as Sam's reactions activated his over-protective mode.

And Sam needed Dean to keep going, not just because he'd be telling Dad the truth when he reported back to him, but because Sam actually believed he deserved this. He could usually make do with a grounding, or extra training, or copying Latin chants, or running laps, or whatever other punishment he was given, and feel like he was paying his dues; but not right now. Right now, he deserved this exact pain.

Even though his eyes were shut tight, his tears somehow flowed out of them. He could feel a sob nearly escaping his lips and tightened his grip on the bedspread. He wasn't one to make a racket, not with Dad, and certainly not with Dean; but it took effort to keep quiet, because it hurt. Really hurt. He would never had thought Dean could spank like that, but then again, his brother had his fair share of ass whoopings, and he was a fast learner.

But Dean still wasn't Dad. The swats stopped falling, much sooner than Sam expected, and his first thought was whether Dad would consider this to be a "proper" spanking. But there was no point in thinking about it; Sam knew this was the most Dean was able to force himself to do. For him the spanking was far more than proper.

Sam lay with his eyes closed, feeling Dean's hand rubbing circles on his back like he used to do when Sam was a toddler and had trouble falling asleep. He surrendered into the gentle, familiar touch, and realized his breathing was regulating itself and his tears had stopped flowing. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Dean.

If anyone were to look at both of them now, Sam thought, they wouldn't be sure which one of them just got spanked. Dean's face was tear-streaked and he looked in pain – not just sad or distressed, but actually _in pain_ , and Sam found himself moving, sliding off his brother's lap so he could stand up and wrap his arms around Dean's neck.

Dean's arms tightened around him immediately and his face pressed into Sam's shoulder. Sam leaned a bit and rested his cheek on Dean's blond head. He couldn't tell if he was still trembling, or if it was Dean, but the little muffled sobs weren't Sam's. It should have been weird, that Sam was the one comforting Dean and not the other way around, but it wasn't. He hugged Dean a little closer and let the fingers of one hand sink into his hair.

They stayed like this for some time, until Dean shifted a bit and Sam pulled back. He carefully studied Dean's face; his brother didn't seem completely fine yet, but he was better, so Sam took a step back and bent to hoist his pants up.

Dean got to his feet, walked out of the bedroom and started dialing on the cell phone. Sam heard him snuffle when he brought the phone up to his ear, but his voice didn't falter when he spoke.

"Dad, it's me. Yes, sir, done, as ordered. Yeah," he looked over at Sam and held the phone out to him. Sam took it while Dean went to sit down in the kitchen.

"Sammy," there was no mistaking the change in his father's tone. Now it was gentle, merciful, enveloping Sam's ear in its warmth. "You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he blinked hard because there were tears threatening to start falling again, and he had enough of those for one day. "And I'm really sorry. About everything."

"I know you are. And I know you'll never do anything like that again. You're smarter than this, son." There was a little pause and when Dad spoke, his voice was even softer. "How's Dean?"

Sam glanced at his brother; Dean was sitting with his elbows on the kitchen table, face in his hands. "Uh… not so good."

"Let me talk to him."

Sam went over and touched Dean's arm. Dean looked up, saw the phone, took it and brought it to his ear with his other hand still held to his face. "Yes, sir."

Sam stood a little back and watched as Dean sat there with his eyes closed, unmoving, silently listening. He couldn't imagine what Dad might have been saying, but Dad was able to push Dean's buttons as effectively as Sam; and as fierce and unconditional as his big brother's love for him was, Sam was honest enough to admit he wasn't the only center of Dean's universe.

For a few moments Dean didn't react at all, but then Sam saw him nodding, very slightly. He listened some more, nodded again. It wasn't like Dad could actually see it, but Sam had a feeling he knew nonetheless. Dean drew a breath, let his hand fall away from his face and straightened up.

"It's okay," he said, quietly. "Yeah. I'm just… it's okay. I will. Okay. No, I'm fine, I am." A little pause and then, nearly whispered, "I know, Dad. Take care." He disconnected the call and stared down at the phone for a minute longer, took another breath and looked up at Sam.

Sam tried to smile. He wasn't doing a really good job, he could tell, but he wanted to reassure Dean that he was fine.

Dean returned a wavery smile of his own and absently wiped his cheeks. "You want some dinner, Sammy?"

Sam wasn't the least bit hungry, but Dean needed something to do, so he said, "sure."

"Macaroni and cheese okay?"

"The exotic kind?"

Dean chuckled, and Sam was surprised at how this little sound could make his heart feel so warm so fast. "Yeah, sure, I'll make you the exotic kind."

Sam smiled, and the glint in his brother's eyes told him Dean could see it was a genuine smile this time. It made Sam smile even wider. "That would be just great."

**Author's Note:**

> Exotic macaroni and cheese, a-la-Dean: add ketchup for spice, tuna, hot dogs, fluff marshmallow mix ("About a Boy", S10E12)
> 
> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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